


All Because of Some Damn Sugar Cookies

by leopardprintpants



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Chef Reader, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Desk Sex, Eating out, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hair-pulling, Long Buildup, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopardprintpants/pseuds/leopardprintpants
Summary: You're second in command for the the Sanctuary's kitchen. Despite your badass cooking skills and high reputation, you still manage to fuck up. Badly. Negan notices. Mainly because he was right there.  Like, right there. Right behind you.You are so fucking dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took like 10-15 mins to come up with that shitty ass title smfh
> 
> There's no smut in this chapter, just buildup bc I didn't want this draft to be deleted lmaoo
> 
> Enjoy!

You sighed and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, not minding the powdered sugar that rubbed off on your skin. The kitchen of the compound was always so goddamn hot, with a bunch of burners on at the same time and the body heat of the staff.

You've been in the compound for around six weeks now and the second in command for kitchen duty for nearly three. You were always the chef in the group, able to make rabbit or deer or anything else taste fucking delicious with only a few picked herbs and minimal supplies.

The Saviors had found you and your small group in a town you all had stayed in for a few weeks. Needless to say, you wouldn't have been there much longer is they hadn't showed up all guns blazing and engines roaring. After a show of obedience, the three of you were taken to the compound.

The youngest of your group, Michael, was only allowed a little rest before they took him out to show where your camp was. You protested at first, but the Saviors had only scoffed and scolded as they grumpily assured you he'd come back unharmed and with your supplies in his hands.

No one would say it directly, but you were completely sure that most of the group had tasted some of the meat you kept wrapped in clean construction paper from a CVS, left out in the open near your bag. One, because far more than half of it was gone before it was snatched out of your hands by a Savior, and two, because you were immediately assigned kitchen duty.

Fucking Michael had this smug look on his face when you got the job and you knew he must have bragged about you, but only noogied him in playful thanks before heading off. Since then, the compound kitchen has been getting more praise and you've been steadily climbing the ranks. The head of the kitchen, a jolly, middle-aged woman named Joanne who never takes her wedding ring off, likes to say that you haven't taken her place yet only because she's been in the kitchen the longest.

Right now, you were mixing the dough of the milk-free sugar cookies you'd been put in charge of. A newbie had just come in and Joanne wanted to see how they worked with different foods. She decided that since the meal won't be as good as you make it and you insisted on helping out, the compound should be treated to some dessert.

The last time they had a sugary treat after a meal was about a month ago, when you'd made mug brownies for almost everyone using as little ingredients as you could. There wasn't any fighting over it, as some had politely refused the dessert for all the kids to have some, knowing there was a limited amount.

The fact that the kitchen staff had only two cakes to share didn't faze you in the slightest--in fact, you didn't accept any of it, leaving everyone else to have more for themselves. The joy that pleasing everyone brang you warmth and happiness once the feedback came in.

Not only has the compound been more lively, but the Saviors have been looking for more sweets ever since. The compound now had a crap ton of candy bars and chocolates and a fuck ton of untouched sugar from God knows where. And frankly, as long as no one living was slaughtered exclusively for a handful of Hershey's Kisses, you didn't care.

At the moment, all you cared about was getting all this shit equally separated, onto baking sheets, and into the oven as fast as you possibly could.

"Andrew!" You called out over your shoulder as you lined some sheets with parchment paper. "You busy?"

"No, why?" A young male called back. You didn't register the silence that suddenly swept over the kitchen, not bothering to take your eyes off the cookie dough.

"I need- HOLY FUCK--"

Before you could realize that the pearly-white grin you were met with wasn't the mouth of a hygienic corpse, your sugar-covered hand had come up on instinct. It wasn't a very good instinct, either, because you had slapped the man in front of you.

Yeah, that used to be a problem. Before you'd stumbled across that one group who taught you how to defend yourself in times like these, people only let you cower behind them because they knew you'd cook up something good if they protected you. The name of your instructor had left you a long time ago; you only remembered the creepy vibe that came off of him.

You all were separated by a herd of those living corpses, the heat of a flaming barn and the revving of a motorcycle the last things you ever saw of the group. You hoped they were all okay. They were strong.

But now, you didn't have time to reminisce about one of your many groups. Now, you could only bring your hands over your mouth in utter shock and fear that filled you as you realized what you'd just done.

A long moment of silence and tension filled the room. You had--quite literally--slapped the smirk off of Negan's face. His head was angled to the side from your weak hit. Powdered sugar and a few specks of dough caught on his salt and pepper beard.

For most of your time in the compound, you had decided it was best to stay as far away from Negan as possible. What paranoid, clumsy freak wouldn't? Inside the kitchen, you've got the grace of a fucking swan, but outside? Outside of the kitchen, you were a hot mess.

You still couldn't forget the times you'd mistaken your roommate's rash ointment for toothpaste in the morning, or the times when you'd trip over absolutely nothing and ate shit on the road when your group would travel.

The most interaction between you and the man was when you were just starting your job in the compound and Joanne was supervising you seasoning some deer they'd gotten from some group Negan had been bullying. Talk of some chick with a katana floated around the cafeteria from a Saviors' table floated around, but you'd paid it no attention.

You were so focused back then, so intent on not making a mistake, that you didn't hear Joanne and Negan's conversation back then. You'd only been told he was obviously checking you out from the women in the kitchen.

Back to the present.

Negan seemed to clench his jaw and and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, though, Joanne came to the rescue, quickly jumping to his feet and talking animatedly about how that was so rude.

"Please forgive her, she's been on edge lately, haha. I'm sure she didn't mean it, right, sweetie?" She asked, looking at your frozen form with eyes that screamed _"don't just stand there, apologize, dammit!"_

Realizing you really didn't want to come off ruder than you already have, you quickly clenched your hands and brought them down to your sides.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't realize you were--" His gloved hand cut you off.

"No, no, that was all me. I was too fucking quiet, wasn't I, sweetheart? My bad. Should've fucking known better." The shit-eating grin was back on his face and his piercing gaze shot right through you, making your knees weak and your body tremble. "Don't let it fucking happen again."

You could only stand shock-still and nod shakily, a barely audible "yes, sir" squeaking out from your lips. His satisfied grin sent another wave of anxiety through you. Negan then took a dampened rag from Joanne's outstretched hand and walked off without another glance.

It was only when the doors of the cafeteria outside opened and slammed shut did you let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding and slumped against the table behind you for support. The oven beeped, signalling that it was done preheating.

Better get started on those damn fucking cookies.

\----

A week. It's been a while fucking week since you slapped the man in charge of this whole shebam. Everyone else had gotten over it, attempting to comfort you with words such as "he's probably impressed with your balls," and "I'd be more concerned that you had the sense to _slap_ a biter," but you were still scared shitless.

You were busy spooning some scrambled eggs into a bowl when someone knocked on the kitchen door's frame. You quickly finished the plate you were making, adding just a little extra of everything, before walking out to greet who would most likely be one of Negan's wives assigned to bring him breakfast.

Amber waited by the entrance, not in the way, but near enough so you only needed to take a step towards her when you exited the kitchen.

"Good morning." You grinned, handing the tray to the woman. She smiled at you, noticing the larger portions of food and helping herself to a small piece of bacon that hung off the edge of the plate.

"Morning." She greeted back. After a few awkward moments, you realized she wasn't making any move to turn around and walk away like usual. Amber's gaze never left you and her friendly smile turned a little tense.

"Um..." Your oh-so-intelligent words seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in, her expression becoming a little apologetic.

"Oh, sorry. Um, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but apparently Negan might call for you soon." She said. Fear immediately shot through you.

"Negan might call for you"? What? Why? How soon was "soon"? What the fuck?

Thousands of questions and exclamations ran through your head. You were in shock. You had been thrown into emotional turmoil with just those last six words.

_'I'm so fucking dead I'm so fucking dead I'm so fucking dead I'm so fucking dead holy fuck--'_

"Oh. Okay." You managed to say, nodding. The woman in front of you seemed to be a little surprised at your calmness, but soon laughed awkwardly and shifted the weight of the tray to one hand to pat your shoulder comfortingly.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm sure nothing bad is gonna happen. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you end up rooming with us by tomorrow." She tried, not noticing the concern on your face. "Alright, I better get going. Don't want to make the big man angry. Oh, and if anyone asks, you didn't hear anything from me. 'Til next time!"

You could only watch as Amber gave you another pat on the shoulder before turning around and walking away. Her shirt rode up when she raised an arm to wave without looking, and you caught a short glimpse of lace peeking out from the waistband of her pants.

You shuddered. If anyone thought you'd be willing to become a trophy wife who has sex to relieve stress and lounges around in lingerie rather than cook bomb-ass food for the whole community, they'd be dead wrong. You shook your head and walked back into the kitchen. You didn't look down on any of Negan's wives, but you personally just not at all eager to become one.

The whole day was spent with you trying way too hard not to panic. You refused to return to your room after you had your own breakfast, opting to go out for a stroll in the gardens for some fresh air rather than risk running into Negan in the hallways. You liked looking at the produce, so no one was suspicious of you walking along the rows of plants.

You were back in the kitchen around fifteen or twenty minutes earlier than you usually show up. Joanne was always the first one there and you helped her set everything up as she spoke enthusiastically about how she couldn't wait to prepare dinner. You only smiled and nodded, not letting the kind woman know you wished dinner would never come.

For lunch, salad, bread, and lemonade were prepared. They were made with fresh ingredients that had just come in from the very garden you'd been wandering in just a little while before. All the kitchen staff had tasted a small portion of it before it got sent out, even you. It was the most kick-ass salad you'd ever fucking had.

This time, it was Sherry who picked up Negan's tray, piled high with food.

You and your coworkers stood in pride as the positive feedback came rolling in. The lettuce was crisp, the optional peanuts and almonds were perfectly roasted, and the dressing had that perfect balance of sweet and sour. The bread was warm and browned nicely. The lemonade was tart, yet sweet, and was easy on the throat.

Damn right they were, too. There was a fucking reason you used to cater at parties.

The staff congratulated you for another meal well-done. Your cooking genius gave everyone just enough energy to keep working through the rest of the afternoon, as per usual. Even with your earned bragging rights, however, you couldn't seem to swallow the lump in your throat as you could swallow your lemonade.

Dinner rolled by sooner than you'd like. You had quickly returned to your room with a well-deserved Kit-Kat bar and taken a quick nap before the alarm clock or roommate woke you from your calm slumber. Even before your dazed state passed, you were already screaming internally.

Fuck Negan.

But also, _fuck_ , Negan.

With a chorus of "shit"s and "fuck"s and "god fucking dammit"s plaguing your thoughts, you laced up your shoes and went out. You managed to look completely calm and collected, even waving to a few people who greeted you. Everyone knew the woman who works her magic with the food.

' _Maybe he'll forget. Shit, no, Negan never fucking forgets what the fuck am I thinking? Fuck, I should just die already. How does one commit suicide and/or homicide with a fucking plastic rice paddle and a goddamn fucking plastic spoon for tasting what the fuck--'_

That evening, you were given the job of helping the newbie season the rabbit and vegetable stew.

"Bit more." You instructed. The younger chef twisted their hand again, grinding another bit of black pepper into the pot. "Nice. Now stir the fuck out of that shit. Make sure nothing's sticking at the bottom, yeah?"

They nodded, obediently following your orders as you patted their back. You didn't hear the knock on the doorframe a bit further from you, so Joanne had to call your name twice to get your attention. When you looked over, you saw Sherry waiting for you, the kind woman waving her hand before exiting the kitchen.

Shit.

It took a moment for you to decide whether to get your ass moving and get it over with or take your sweet ass fucking time to delay the inevitable. Really, as the second on command of the kitchen, it was your sole responsibility to serve Negan indirectly. He didn't seem like a patient man, so you'd always have to have a steaming plate of dinner ready so one of his wives could just take it and go.

The former it is.

You snatched up a tray that was just put down and asked the servers for a little extra food as you're meant to. Once that was done, you walked briskly out of the kitchen and only had to look around for a few moments before spotting Sherry. With an extra friendly smile, you approached the nicest of Negan's wives.

"Sherry, hey! Sorry I took a bit longer than usual, had to help train the newbie." You chuckled, earning a casual giggle in response. Good. Maybe she'll just forget about the thing and you would have to see Negan? Better yet, Amber may have just been fucking with you for no reason at all.

You held the plate of food to Sherry, but to your obvious dismay, she made no move to take it.

"Judging by your expression, I'm guessing you already know this, but... he wants you." She lowered her volume as to not gather the attention of anyone nearby.

Your blood ran cold and you gulped, pushing the tray of food a bit closer to Sherry. Once she pushed it back towards you with a slow and gentle hand, your fear spiked. All you could do was laugh awkwardly, as if included in an extremely uncomfortable joke. Talk about best case scenario...

"Wants me to... bring him his dinner?" You tried to confirm, gripping the tray of food with both hands. Sherry looked a bit unsure, as if she wanted to add on to that statement, but decided not to.

"Uh... yeah. He said that you're free for the rest of the evening and to get you to his room as soon as possible. You know where that is, right?" She asked, continuing when you nodded hesitantly, torn between doing your job, asking her to lead you there, or just getting the fuck away from the compound. "Good. Just knock on his door and he'll let you right on in. Now, best you hurry up. I'll tell everyone else."

With a sympathetic smile and a quiet "good luck," Sherry walked past you and into the kitchen. You were left standing there for a few moments, but it felt like time had stood still.

You didn't want to go. You didn't want to see his goddamn attractive face masked in anger and annoyance and that fucking smug ass smile when you're blacking out in the fucking hallway. Surely he wouldn't kill you in his room, it'd be far too messy. Lucille was probably so fucking done with you. Hell, _you_ were so done with _yourself_.

A person accidentally bumping into your shoulder and apologizing brought you out of your stupor. Shit, better not keep him waiting. You're already dead once you get there; why make it even worse for yourself by being late?

\----

There you were, standing before Negan's bedroom door. The walk here had been far too quick for your liking, having to rush slightly so you could make it here on time... whenever that was.

You didn't have the balls to knock on the door--not even fucking close. The thoughts of what may lie behind it were extremely unpleasant. You could picture Negan answering the door with Lucille propped up on his left shoulder, that goddamn perfect grin blinding you as he took the tray of food out of your hands and bashed your skull in with one mighty swing of his bat.

He'd probably even eat dinner, too, once he'd closed the door on your twitching corpse. Asshole.

Almost two minutes passed as you stood hunched over and stared at the door warily. In other words, two minutes were wasted on you being a fucking idiot and letting the most impatient man you knew waiting.

Shit. Allowing no further hesitation, you forced a fist to raise up and knock on the door twice.

You took a deep breath and steeled yourself for what was to come, bringing your hand down to hold the tray of food again. Barely a moment seemed to pass before a low "come in" was heard from the other side of the door. The voice was deep and husky... expecting.

All fears and concerns were pushed back into the corners of your mind in favor of a straightened back and a blank face. A surprisingly steady hand firmly gripped the knob of the door and turned it.

You kept your head low in respect as you entered the room. You didn't dare look up to meet the piercing gaze of the man you'd lived in fear of, especially for the past week. Instead, you stepped through the doorway, eyes on the plush carpet beneath your feet as your arm reached behind you and politely shut the door.

"Put the food on my fucking desk, doll." Negan ordered. His voice was neutral, neither rude nor kind. He held a polite tone--an almost infuriatingly well-mannered one. You couldn't be bothered to even begin trying to think about how he felt through his voice. Instead, you nodded and turned away to glance up, immediately catching the wooden piece of furniture.

As you began to walk towards it, you allowed yourself to analyze what you could of Negan's office. It was extremely neat, as expected. The desk was clear of paperwork--inventory of supplies scavenged from runs and such--that the man would have the job of working on.

A few bottles of booze were organized on a small stand next to it. There were a few drawers that you assumed held paper, pens, etcetera.

Of course, a cushioned chair was sat in front of the desk. In fact, extremely padded and cushioned seats took up the space in the office. A large bookshelf filled with works of literature was in the corner of your eye. God, when was the last time you'd read a good book? It seemed long ago, but you didn't dwell on it for too long.

Mainly because it sounded like Negan had stood up and was walking straight towards you.

_'Shit, fuck, shit, godfuckingdammit all to--'_

You didn't allow the panic to show as you smoothly set the tray of food down in front of you. You didn't turn around, especially not when leather sleeves brushed up against your sides, gloved hands gripping the desk to cage you between them. Instead, a barely audible gasp of surprise escaped you. You immediately knew Negan had heard when he chuckled.

A soft scarf brushed against the back of your neck and his Adam's apple dug into the back of your head. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

 _Do_ you want to?

"Y'know, sweetheart..." he started, forcing you to hold in a shudder as his lips spoke against your hair and his throat vibrated with every word, "... I never did fucking talk to you about last week, did I?"

He chuckled again when you tensed. One of his hands moved up to undo and remove his crimson scarf.

"Now, now, calm the fuck down. As I said before, that was completely my fault. You certainly made up for it with those fucking bomb-ass goddamn cookies, huh? Yeah, remember when I had one of my fucking wives head down just to fucking get another one? That's how fucking delicious they were, doll..."

Yes, you remembered that. Amber had come that evening to pick up his dinner, then came back forty-five minutes later to ask for another cookie. One of the other staff members, a young man, didn't bother questioning it and fulfilled the woman's request, only telling you so after dinner service.

You'd thought one of the other wives had gotten the munchies or something--it seemed plain outrageous that Negan would have a sweet tooth. Then again, he is the leader of most, if not, all, supply runs. Those chocolates weren't summoned by the Saviors themselves.

"What?" Your breath hitched and you could practically hear his smirk went he leant down to speak softly into your ear, those fucking lips of his that he habitually licked close enough to you so you could feel each and every breath that he calmly let out. Apparently, he'd shaved recently. "Cat got your tongue?"

You didn't dare give him the satisfaction of talking back. You knew he had a thing for feisty women, even if he didn't encourage them to act negatively around him. Judging by his many wives, one could easily tell that he enjoyed ladies that didn't hesitate to speak their mind.

The fact that you were so confident in knowing Negan's "type" was kind of fucking sad.

Your hands gripped the desk tighter. If you'd glanced down, you'd see that your knuckles turned white. Negan chuckled deeply and moved his hands over yours.

"Hey, now. Why so fucking tense, doll? We're just having some fucking fun, aren't we?" Suddenly, his words took on a darker tone and a sharper edge. "Just like how you had fun fucking humiliating me in front of the whole fucking kitchen staff, am I right?"

Shit. Fuck. Of course he wouldn't let that go.

Your mouth opened and you spoke without thinking, instinctively defending yourself.

"I didn't know it was you! I-I was so focused on my work that-that I didn't realize what was--" He cut you off by leaning further into you, a whimper leaving your lips. Whether it was a noise of fear at the danger in the man, pleasure in his body heat through his layers of clothing, or just pure confusion, you didn't know.

What you did know was that your waist was pressed against the edge of the desk, bending forward slowly as Negan leaned into you. You almost failed to notice the firm bulge in his pants. Almost.

"Did I ask you to fucking speak, darlin'?" He asked, two parts teasing, one part threatening. You gasped quietly as his hands squeezed yours in what he'd probably wanted you to think was comfort; although you both knew it was a sign of dominance. A subtle way of saying, "I've got you trapped here and you fucking know it."

A low hum sounded from behind you and you realized he must be expecting an answer to his question. You feebly shook your head no, gaze never leaving the smooth, polished surface of the desk. Somehow, you immediately knew Negan was unsatisfied with this answer and the lack of confidence from you.

He leaned back up a little, enough to give you some space but not enough so you could move back. One of his hands came up to gently grab at your chin and turn it as he moved so you could both see each other's expressions clearly.

Negan looked mildly disappointed.

"Hey, sweetheart." He paused, taking in your flushed cheeks and your lower lip that you were biting before making eye contact you forced yourself to keep. "Am I bothering you?"

You were a bit taken aback by this question, though not by much. The man made it a point that he was very clearly against harming women or acting upon them without their consent. If he wasn't such a crude asshole who grinned while burning parts of men's faces, you'd often call him a gentleman.

"Uh..." You swallowed before forcing your voice to become firmer. "Of course not. I'm just... uh..."

He seemed to light right back up again at your response, leaning in further, your faces so close now that steady breath spread across your warm cheeks when he continued to speak in a lighter tone.

"There we are. There we fucking go! That feisty-ass little girl is starting to fucking show through again! Feel free to come out of your fucking shell around me, sweetheart, I won't discourage you."

The bastard had the nerve to wink one of his warm, chocolate-brown eyes at you before he kissed your cheek almost condescendingly and pulled his head away. His gloved hand left your face and laid on your own hand again, this time tracing patterns into your skin.

"Now... where fucking were we?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Now... where fucking were we?"

You gulped and tried to get your heartbeat under control. You weren't sure whether Negan wanted an answer from you until he answered himself.

"Ah, right... I was just about to eat. You. Up." He said, voice becoming lower and huskier as he reached the end of his statement. Every syllable sent chills down your spine, causing a noticeable shudder to run through your body. Negan chuckled and was about to say something, but anxiety got the better of you.

"Um, there's-- I made... salad?"

Why hello, crippling awkwardness; what a delight to see you here again!

You immediately flushed in embarrassment at your own words, pursing your lips together tightly and resisting the urge to just push Negan back and make a fucking run for it.

A veil of bemused shock seemed to fall over the panty-dropping man behind you. You held your breath as the room became silent.

'Why in the fuck did I say that what in the fucking hell? "I made salad"? Oh my god I'm going to fucking kill myself Jesus fucking Christ--'

Suddenly, an alien sound came from over your shoulder. What the hell? Was Negan...?

Holy shit, he was.

Negan laid his forehead on your shoulder as he laughed--not one of those stupid, "don't fuck with me" chuckles, either. This was a full on belly laugh. This was the kind of laugh one would hear from that one alcoholic uncle named Dick who was actually really cool sober after hearing a bad joke during a family barbeque.

Needless to say, you were more uncomfortable than you should have been.

It took a few moments for the man to stop and regain his composure, shaking his head with a grin. His grip on your hands and your grip on the desk were both significantly looser than before after catching each other off guard.

"Ah, sweetheart." He chuckled a few more times, his grip on you becoming tighter again as he leaned forward. "No one's made me fucking laugh like that in a long fucking time."

"Figured." You replied, breathing out slowly so the man wouldn't hear a deep sigh of relief.

You could almost hear Negan's grin turning more suggestive behind you as he forced you to bend over the desk with his weight. When you'd finally reached the awkward position he wanted you in, clothed chest brushing the wood of the desk, the man brought his hands down, one on your lower back and one on your hip.

The firm, steady weight of his gloved hand on your back told you to stay in the position you were in. Almost instinctively, your hands moved over your head to get a better grip on the desk.

A low hum came from behind you. The hand on your hip moved again to follow the curve of your ass, making you jump. Negan chuckled at your sudden movement, hearing a small squeak coming from you.

"My, my, sweetheart..." He groped you through the shorts that went down to just above your knees. Your breath hitched, your legs tensed, and your hands held the desk tighter. "You've got a really fucking sweet ass, you know that?"

His compliment made your face flush and confidence surge through you.

"I do." You stated firmly. Negan let out a low whistle, surprised at the transition from a nervous wreck to a woman who knew and appreciated her own body.

"I'll fucking keep that in mind then."

Seeing as you weren't going to move from where he'd positioned you, the hand keeping your upper body against the desk moved to your front. The man gently pulled your hips towards him so he could unbutton your shorts and slowly unzip them.

Suddenly, he leaned back, and you whimpered at the loss of contact between you. You looked over your shoulder to look at him with wide, confused eyes to see him with a devilish grin, making eye contact immediately.

"Strip for me." Negan said simply.

Those three short words took your breath away, and you released the desk. Slowly standing up straight, you placed your shaking hands on your hips, thumbs sliding into the waistband with ease. Hesitation compelled you to look over your shoulder again.

Negan was kneeling. For you. Oh, how the tables have turned.

This fact alone was enough to urge you to look forward again and start.

You started to sway your hips slowly, making sure the man behind you got an excellent view of your hypnotizing ass moving left to right and vice versa. You strategically moved your hands down in time with your hips, the shorts slowly making their way lower and lower until they fell to the floor.

Negan let out a low groan. You spared him a small glance to catch him rubbing himself through his jeans. Catching your eye, the man smirked and gestured for you to bend over the desk again. You did so, making sure to wiggle your ass a bit more as you regained the position you were in beforehand.

"Ughhh... Gettin' real fucking naughty there, princess..." Negan warned with no threat behind his words. A few sounds were made behind you, including the sound of leather dropping onto carpet. You sighed when his bare hands touched you.

They started at your ankles, moving up to press against the backs of your calves, your thighs... Eventually, they came up to give your ass a rough squeeze, drawing out a sharp gasp from you. The man chuckled and moved his hands to your hips before dipping his index fingers into the waistband of your panties.

With one swift movement, Negan had pulled them down over your hips and thighs before leaving them to fall to your ankles. He dropped one of his hands as well and tapped your legs so you'd lift them up.

"Need to get these outta the fucking way, darlin'." He ordered, pulling the clothing towards him as you stepped out of it. When they were free, the man stuffed your panties into his back pocket just as you cast a glance back at him before tossing your pants out of the way. "Go on, then. Spread those fucking legs for Daddy."

You paused to let that kink sink in. Of course he would.

Negan didn't let you think about it for too long. After a few short moments, he slapped your ass roughly and you cried out in painful pleasure before quickly spreading your legs and exposing yourself to him.

He let out a low whistle as he admired your already swollen folds.

"Look at you! You're fucking soaked, almost dripping, and I haven't even fucking touched you properly yet! What a good girl." He exclaimed, the praise going straight to your nether regions as you blushed.

Without warning, a finger reached between your legs and probed at your clit, making you jump and whimper. Negan rubbed your clit in circular motions, using just the right amount of pressure and speed to turn you into a moaning, quivering mess at his touch.

His other hand came up and he leaned forward to bring it to your mouth. You didn't notice it in your haze and gasped when he put more pressure on your button, letting out a startled noise at the sudden intrusion of fingers in your mouth.

Negan dragged them over your tongue, into your cheek, and over the roof of your mouth to get them coated in your saliva. When you flicked your tongue against them, he groaned again and slowly drew them out. A strand of your saliva connected the fingers to your lips until he drew them away father and brought them to your entrance.

Slowly, he pressed one of them to your opening and slid it in carefully. You moaned and grinded against it when he pulled it back and pushed it back in repeatedly. Soon, the second finger was inside you and he scissored them to stretch you.

"N-Negan--Ah!" He spanked your ass again with the hand that was on your clit and you knew what he wanted from you almost immediately. "Daddy... m-more! Please!"

"Not just yet, princess." The man replied, rubbing your backside with the hand that hit it. "Lemme get a fucking taste of you first."

Negan withdrew his fingers at a torturous pace, obviously enjoying you squirming and whimpering at the steady loss of contact. He brought them back to your face and you didn't need an order before taking them into your mouth, lapping and sucking at your own fluids.

You shook when the male behind you leaned forward, letting you feel his breath on your folds before his tongue ran along your slit. The hand on your ass moved between your legs to rub at the clit that was covered in his saliva, almost making your knees buckle. Had it not been for the desk, you'd be on the floor.

His warm tongue licked steadily at you, making you moan loudly around his fingers. When he pressed it against your hole, you couldn't help but arch your back in an attempt to feel more of it. With a chuckle, Negan slipped it inside you, eliciting many noises of pleasure from you.

"Mmphh!" You cried, muffled by his fingers that pressed down on your tongue. Negan flicked the muscle inside you, allowing you to grind against his face. A feeling you haven't felt in a long time arose within you as the man ate you out with no mercy.

"C'mon darling. Fucking cum for me." He pulled away to mumble before diving back onto you again. When he pulled out his tongue to lap against your clit, you nearly screamed.

Heat spread from your core to everywhere, replacing the blood in your veins with mind-numbing pleasure that was almost too much to handle. Your pussy contracted around the tongue Negan had managed to insert back into you as he tasted your juices.

All too soon, it was over. He pulled his hands and tongue away, hearing you whimper and plead for more contact.

"Oh, don't you fucking worry, sweetheart," he said with the sound of a zipper being pulled down, "you'll fucking get more of daddy soon enough."

You felt the blunt tip of his cock press against you and you shuddered in need. When you brought your hips back impatiently, you earned another spank.

"Ah ah ah. Good girls ask for what they want." Negan scolded you, taking his length away from you. You whined in protest, but obeyed.

"P-Please, daddy, I... I want...!"

"Want what, sweetheart? Use your fucking words." He mused, pressing his length against you again.

"I-I w-want daddy's huge cock inside me, please, just--!" You were desperate now. You'd gain your dignity back later, but for now, all you wanted was for Negan to fuck you, to pound you into oblivion and reduce you to a drooling, shaking mess on his desk.

"Good girl." The man praised, slipping his dick into you with one stroke. The noise that left you was somewhere between a moan and a sob as he hilted himself in you. Negan wasted no time and immediately started thrusting into your wet heat as you lay your warming face against the cool desk.

"Ungh--you're so fucking tight, sweetheart. Been holding out on me." He praised, obviously pleased at the heat of your cunt surrounding his dick. You groaned at the praise, meeting the slamming of his hips with your own. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back with a moan from you as your scalped burned.

"Y-You're--ahh!--so b-big!" You replied between wanton moans of pleasure that fought off a headache.

His cock was heavenly; filling you up so good and teetering on the line between sharp pain and agonizing pleasure with each thrust. Through your hazy conscious, you promised to yourself you wouldn't agree to being his wife so easily, not even after this, but if you could have him fuck you again...

"Ahh! Daddy--fuck! There!" You tensed when Negan's dick brushed against your g-spot as it entered. He placed his free hand on your hip and kept you in position as he kept thrusting in that angle to send shocks of pleasure up your spine every time his cock pushed into your inviting heat.

It didn't take long for you to peak, tightening around him with every thrust and damn-near shrieking when one of his hands moved in front of you to rub harshly at your clit. For the second time that evening, liquid desire coursed through your body and your whole body turned still as stone as you came.

You were almost sobbing from overstimulation when your body went slack and Negan still pistoned into you like the man he was, moving his hand from your hair to your neck. His thrusts became less coordinated and his grip on your hips was almost bruising as he used your body as something to get him off.

You trembled from the aftershocks of your orgasm and the lack of oxygen as you clenched around Negan one more time.

A deep groan escaped him as he hilted himself inside you for the last time, his cum rushing into you in long, thick strands as his hips jerked involuntarily. You could swear you almost came again from his voice and the heat that filled you, choking out a raspy moan.

Both of you came down from your peaks and Negan caught his breath before releasing your neck and slowly slipping out of you. You whimpered as some of his sperm rushed out of you and trailed down your legs, coating them in sticky warmth.

You'd just fucked Negan.

He ate you out.

He came inside of you.

All because of some damn sugar cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot diggity dog!! Ya this was really late oops
> 
> I fell asleep while writing this last night lmao Heelys take up a lot of energy
> 
> Sorry! For! The! Delay!! Smfh @ myself this was a Christmas present for the friend that wanted this in the 1st place woah the ending was a bit fucked but like?? Who cares?? You get to fuck Negan bruh
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!! And stuff!! Hope you enjoyed!!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend. You're welcome, god bless
> 
> Sexy fun times in the next chapter, coming up soon!
> 
> (Only a little ashamed that I'm still in love with Negan after that last episode jfc what a guy)


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